


Next Stop Is...

by ryukoishida



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-16 23:10:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2287937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryukoishida/pseuds/ryukoishida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sousuke would be lying if he says he doesn’t notice the man who’s always sitting across from him on the bus everyday on the way to university campus, or the way the stranger sometimes smiles at him but never speaks a word.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next Stop Is...

            The first time they meet, it's on an over-crowded bus on the first day of the semester. He's not sure if he should consider himself fortunate that he's somehow miraculously managed to get on this bus so he won't be late for his morning psychology lecture or unfortunate that he can hardly breathe in this sardine-packed of a bus.

 

            Sousuke is squashed between a thirty-something year-old mother with her son in tow, who's obviously ecstatic about his first day of elementary school, and another businessman who's practically falling asleep on his feet, his head consistently lolling and hitting against Sousuke's back whenever the bus jolts to a halt. He just hopes the guy is not drooling on him or anything disgusting like that.

 

            The second-year college student figures that sooner or later, the little boy would knock into some disgruntle stranger in his animated state of flailing limbs, his mother being unable to dissuade him otherwise.

 

            And then it's happening.

 

            The boy bumps right into the back of a man's jean-clad legs – really long, elegant legs, Sousuke notes – and he twists around, startled, a book in one hand that he promptly marks with a finger.

 

            At least the boy has the decency to look panicked, his hand immediately finding the comfort of his mother's for protection. But the man merely glances down to the source of collision, seeing the boy shuffling his feet in embarrassment and the woman apologizing profusely for her son's behaviour.

 

            Looking like he's in his early 20's and most likely a college student himself, the man shakes his head with a small smile, assuring the mother that it's not a big deal and in a softer voice, he asks the boy, "So, very excited for first day of school, huh?"

 

            The child appears to want to hide behind his mother if given the chance, but since they can barely move as it is, he has no choice but to look up and mumbles, "Y-yeah."

 

            Then Sousuke sees the boy's attention shifts to the novel that the man's holding, and like all curious children, he suddenly forgets to be shy and asks, "What are you reading?"

 

            "Kouji!" The mother snaps, seemingly offended, which Sousuke doesn't really understand. Aren't children allowed to ask questions any more? But then again, maybe Sousuke gets where she's coming from; she might just be concerned about the fact that her boy is bothering the stranger with his endless questions (Sousuke is willing to admit that he'd be the type to get irritated if he's put into the same situation), which can be a valid reason as to why the mother apologizes again, and the man waves it off casually with a smile once more.

 

            ('Does he ever stop smiling?')

 

            "It's the third book in the _Harry Potter_ series," he tells the boy, and the enthusiasm in his voice can infect anybody in the vicinity. "Have you heard of it before?"

 

            The boy shakes his head, brows furrowed. "Looks like there are a lot of words," he visibly winces.

 

           The man chuckles, and even through the Arctic Monkeys' guitar riffs that are feeding in from his headphones, Sousuke's attention, which has been concentrated on his neighbour's newspaper to his left, is dragged back to the man and that warm, hearty laugh.

 

            He blinks, cursing himself inwardly.

 

            "I guess so," the man continues. "But you can always ask your mom to read it to you. It's really good."

 

            "What is it about?" The child wants to know, starry-eyed now that his interest has been piqued. Sousuke can't blame the kid; the way the man talks about the book is like he's casting a spell on his audience, and Sousuke can care less about the damn book.

 

            And so the child and the man continue their chat until the mother regrettably informs them that they have to get off at the next stop.

 

            After the man waves goodbye – or as much of a waving motion as he can make without jamming his elbow into another person's face – his eyes all of a sudden find Sousuke's in the crowd and he wonders vaguely if he's in a goddamn chick flick because that stuttered heartbeat he feels in his chest when he notices how fucking bright and green the other man's eyes are and how much he wants to see the man's lips twitch into a timid smile as he nods politely in his direction, a stray lock of brown hair falling into his eyes before going back to his novel? These are things that are actually happening in real life, and Sousuke is sure that real life does not work like a romance film.

 

            By the time he and the nameless man get off at the last stop – the university campus' southern bus loop – Sousuke knows he's done for.

 

            He has officially entered into what he shall now refer to as public transit hell.

 

-

 

            There are many reasons why Sousuke despises October. One of said reasons is the gross weather that involves strong wind blowing rainwater horizontal into his face so that his umbrella is rendered useless and redundant; the other one is that October is a college student's month-long nightmare, a period of time when professors assign take-home essays and mid-term exams from left and right, and then expect them to do well and survive until the next bombardment.

 

            On this fine, wet morning, Sousuke boards the usual 8:10 a.m. bus, strangely deserted for weekday rush hour so that he's able to slump down on his regular seat at the back of the vehicle with less diligence than usual, his messenger bag flung carelessly across the seat next to his own.

 

            Sousuke currently has a pounding headache due to several factors from last night: cramming for his psychology and chemistry mid-terms, which are both happening today, attempting to finish his philosophy essay (whoever told him that the German Idealism course is a sure GPA booster, Sousuke would like to thank them by making them read up on Hegel because that in itself is enough of a torture), and having one Rin Matsuoka dropping in at his apartment at the ungodly hour of 1:30 in the goddamn morning in tears and hysterics.

 

            It took Sousuke half an hour to calm his best friend down, but when he asked Rin the source of his anguish, the red-haired man clamped up, only mumbling, "Stupid Haru... Why does everything have to go his way?"

 

            From what he understands, Haruka Nanase is Rin's roommate since first year of college, though Sousuke suspects that the relationship has become much more than that over the past year even if Rin hasn't mentioned anything to him yet. He knows Rin will inform him in due time when he feels ready.

 

            That morning, Rin offered to give Sousuke a ride back to campus in his battered car, but he had perhaps refused Rin a bit too quickly because the red-head raised a critical brow at him.

 

            "I thought you hate taking public transit," Rin commented with suspicion. "You even moved further away from campus in order to save up for a car, and you never refuse a free ride before. What's gotten into you?"

 

            "Nothing," Sousuke replied sharply, and immediately wished he hadn't.

 

            He couldn't even begin to explain why he had started to suddenly enjoy his bus rides to school because the story would be tedious and ridiculous, and Rin would probably just laugh at Sousuke's stupidity and shoujo fantasy about a certain green-eyed stranger.

 

            "If you have the time and energy to poke your nose into my business, then why don't you spend some of that on resolving issues with your boyfriend?"

 

            "Wh-? Boyf-? Haru's not my boyfriend! What the hell?" Rin sputtered indignantly, face tinting red. Sousuke managed to hide his snickers behind his hand but only just barely.

 

            "Whatever you say,Rin. I'll see you at practice later," Sousuke returned, opening up his umbrella as he stepped out into the rain and continued his short walk to the bus stop, pointedly ignoring Rin's colourful curses from behind.

 

            Dealing with Rin, especially when he gets emotional and fussy like the previous night, always exhausts Sousuke no matter how used to it he already is. He would whine and complain if there were anyone willing to listen, but he wouldn't want his best friend any other way.

 

            His fatigue must be showing since it's only after he has yawned noisily – and probably rather unattractively – does he notice the half-amused, half-concerned expression on the green-eyed stranger who's once again sitting directly across from him.

 

            He's still reading the same book from last week, Sousuke notes automatically, his eyes flickering to the book spine for half a second before he realizes what he's doing and forces himself to look elsewhere.

 

            This is getting hopeless. Sousuke Yamazaki is hopeless – hopeless, and so, so fucked.

 

            For the brief moment that their eyes meet, it has looked like the man is on the verge of saying something, but Sousuke never finds out because he sees the brunet bites his lower lip in hesitation, eyes averting and timid and he seems to have thought better of it before returning his gaze back to the text of his book.

 

            Sousuke lets out a quiet sigh, putting on his headphones and selecting the loudest Alice Nine track he can find to drown out the obnoxious taunting of his own consciousness that's urging him, 'Go on. Go talk to the guy already, for fuck's sakes', as well as the shame rooted from his inability to do what he's been wanting to since the start of this semester.

 

            It's been a month and eleven days since they first met – though the word 'met' should be loosely applied as they still haven't said anything to each other during this entire time, and not that Sousuke has been counting or anything silly like that.

 

            It would have been so simple to strike up a conversation. Sousuke is not shy by any means. He just doesn't see the point in exchanging meaningless words and useless pleasantries with people whom he knows he would dislike. 

 

            "And that is why you only have like, three friends," Rin has once chided him, shaking his head helplessly. Sousuke has thought to defend himself by disagreeing with that statement wholeheartedly, but found that Rin is probably right.

 

            The fact has never bothered him before, but having the self-knowledge that he isn't the most sociable person around in addition to the intimidating default demeanour he knows he wears 98% of the time thatRin sometimes teases him about, it's doing nothing to boost Sousuke's confidence in the flirting department. That's why every time, which is pretty much every weekday morning, he sees the green-eyed man, wanting to greet him with an easy "good morning" or "hello" or "what are you reading today?", words would get stuck and die in his throat, leaving a nasty taste of regret and bitterness behind.

 

            The most he has managed to do thus far is return the stranger's cordial smile with a stiff, too-polite nod.

 

            He's really quite pathetic, if he does say so himself.

 

            Today is not going to be that day, is it? Sousuke turns to a page in his notebook in a feeble attempt to review for his psychology mid-term, without a single word sticking in his mind.

 

            This is going to be a long bus ride.

 

-

 

            He isn't thinking about how today's the last day of classes for this semester before the descent of final exam week and the much-needed winter break as he purchases a black coffee from the corner café on his way to the bus stop; he isn't thinking about how much he used to hate snowy days because of the inconvenience but now he can't get rid of the mental image of snowflakes sticking on thick, dark lashes surrounding brilliant jade irises and kissing cold-flushed cheeks; he definitely isn't thinking about the dreadful fact that today may be the last day he'll get to see the green-eyed stranger (What are the chances that their spring semester schedules will coincide to allow them to take the same bus at the same time? Sousuke is not dwelling on this subject at all.).

 

            A sliver of white steam slithers out of his mouth, moist and warm against his freezing lips, and he imagines the fog as unspoken words – barely visible and unable to be captured as they dissipate quickly into the winter air.

 

            Today will be the day, Sousuke decides as he sees the bus approaches the stop slowly, the driver being extra cautious of the black ice on the road. He holds his head high in determination, hand tightening around the paper cup and teal eyes bright with a burst of sense of purpose.

 

            He searches for the familiar mob of messy brown hair and hands that always hold volumes of books with such care; he even checks the front area of the bus again to make sure he didn't miss him when he first got on, but once he confirms that the man he's been looking forward to seeing every morning for the past three months is not on this bus, he sinks deeply into the seat that now feels jagged and uncomfortable, his heart sinking even deeper in his chest.

 

            As the bus chugs along the snowy streets, Sousuke doesn't see the passengers getting off and boarding on, nor does he notice the yellow streetlights blinking out of existence as the sun climbs higher into the thick, monotonous sky.

 

            Sousuke can only see the friendly, open smiles the man always offers him, or the slight frown he wears on his brows whenever he's consumed by whatever book he happens to be reading at the time, or the way his too-long forelocks fall carelessly into his eyes and he has to brush it back with a speck of impatience.

 

            Why didn't he just initiate a conversation when he had the chance? Why is he such a fucking coward?

 

            These thoughts are still looping through his mind when the vehicle pulls into the bus terminal, and he follows the line of students blindly to the door.

 

            His half-finished coffee is now cooled off as Sousuke steps off the bus, barely aware of his surroundings. He's not looking at where he's going – doesn't really care, his mind too distracted – one step after another, and then another, leaving muddy footprints in the melting snow...

 

            "Um. Excu-" That voice.

 

            "Shit," Sousuke looks up, eyes comically wide with his foot caught by a hard block of frozen snow, and he watches in horror as he trips forward, sending the remaining of his cold coffee towards the stranger... The same stranger who's been occupying Sousuke's thoughts since he first saw him; the same stranger who's now caught him by his arms and he feels him staggering backwards from the force; the same stranger who now has coffee dripping all over his knitted sweater, brown staining on ivory white.

 

            There's a surprised look on the man's face, as if he couldn't figure out why his jacket is suddenly soaked in coffee.

 

            His eyes flicker up, blinking rapidly as snowflakes drift before him, touching his lashes, and they are even more vibrant and green than Sousuke remembers. "Shit," he mutters again, not realizing he's spoken out loud until too late, and he sees the corner of the stranger's mouth curving upwards.

 

            'Oh great. The first time I open my mouth in front of him and I swore at him. Wonderful,' he thinks, cringing and hoping to all gods that his expression at least stays neutral.

 

            "A-are you okay?" His voice is hushed among the racket made by the students who are rushing around them to get to their classes. The man still has a firm hold on his arms, though Sousuke doesn't really need the support anymore but he's really, really enjoying the pressure of his sturdy fingers on his skin (even if it's dulled by three layers of clothing). When he notices Sousuke's not-so-subtle gaze on his hands, the stranger immediately lets go of him, head lowering, and Sousuke is almost certain that the guy is actually blushing.

 

            Yes, yes he is. My goodness. What Sousuke wouldn't give to make him blush like that again.

 

            'Am I okay? Are _you_ okay? You're the one who got drenched by my coffee! How are you even real?' is what Sousuke's thinking, though what comes out of his mouth is actually, "Yeah. But you don't look so good." He stares pointedly at the man's ruined sweater.

 

            "Ah, it's alright," he's digging through his backpack, presumably looking for tissue to wipe up the mess, or at least to reduce the damage. "It could be a lot of worst, I suppose. At least the coffee's not scorching hot, right?" He can't seem to find any materials to dry himself, and Sousuke has nothing to offer either.

 

            "The coffee might soaked through if you keep that on," Sousuke reminds him, and then mentally slaps himself. His mind is not overloaded with images of the green-eyed man taking off not only his sweater, but also stripping down to nothing but his boxers ('Or maybe briefs,' his brain helpfully adds.). It's not. It's really not. 

 

            "Right," he quickly nods in agreement, and for some reason, the man finds it necessary to turn around to do so, as he dumps his backpack on a nearby bench and takes off his jacket. He's only wearing a thin long-sleeved t-shirt underneath, the smooth waves of his back muscles, lined by the clinging material of his shirt, shift and flex as he shrugs his bag back on his shoulders.

 

            Sousuke averts his eyes, clears his throat noisily, and says the first thing that pops into his head, "So what are you doing here?" Wow, his voice sounds colder than the frigid wind that's blowing snow right into his face. Rude.

 

            "I... attend this school?" he tries, his grin a little defenceless.

 

             With only his orange wool scarf wound around his neck, he's shaking visibly. He rubs his hands together with a nervous chuckle, his coffee-stained jacket folded over one arm.

 

            "I mean the bus stop. Why are you - ?" Sousuke pauses, scratching the back of his neck.

 

            "Oh. My class has been pushed up an hour early," he says, and then, "and I was hoping I'd catch you at the bus stop since I didn't take the usual bus this morning." It may have been the cold that's causing the red in his cheeks, but Sousuke likes to think it's from something else.

 

            "I -" Sousuke doesn't know what to say to that. Well, there are many things he wants to say, but they all just swirl into a meaningless mess in his head because oh. _Oh._ He noticed. He knew. "I see." He's really terrible at carrying conversations, isn't he?

 

            But before he can worry about how to proceed, the man sneezes into his arm, his shivering increasing and even his teeth is chattering slightly now. Flecks of white decorate his chocolate brown hair and Sousuke has to force himself from brushing them off. Instead of invading the man's personal space, which will no doubt scare him off, he shrugs off his own parka and places it around his shoulders; he instantly notices that the man is only a few centimetres shorter and he can easily brushes his lips against his temple, the man's warmth permeating through the air, but he doesn't think about that, just briskly takes a step back again.

 

            "You didn't have to do that," he tells him, tone soft but kind; his hand reaches out to touch the sleeve.

 

            "It's my fault," Sousuke replies, looking away.

 

            The bus loop is quite empty now. Nine o'clock classes have started and Sousuke knows that he's already late but he can't bring himself to walk away, not when he's finally talking to the green-eyed stranger.

 

            Sousuke wants more than that though. He wants to know the man's name, knows his likes and dislikes, his favourite books, what he's studying, and so much more, and if he chooses to walk away now, Sousuke will never find out about this man, never make this stranger into a not-stranger, into his friend, and perhaps more.

 

            "Thank you, um," he smiles a bit uncertainly, waiting.

 

            "Sousuke Yamazaki," he offers with a tight smile of his own.

 

            "Thank you, Yamazaki-kun," his smile becomes a full bloom one, all dimpled cheeks and radiant eyes, and he holds out his hand. "I'm Makoto Tachibana."

 

            Sousuke clasps his hand to Makoto's and that searing warmth beats everything Sousuke's ever imagined.

 

            "So glad to finally make your acquaintance," Makoto laughs, and it's that same laugh Sousuke first heard on the crowded bus: unguarded, sincere, a deep rumble that vibrates from the depth of his chest.

 

            “Likewise,” Sousuke nods, retrieving his hand, skin still tingling as the cold air sends needles – sweetly prickling – through his fingers.

 

            “Don’t you have a class to go to?”

 

            Sousuke checks the time on his watch, shrugs and begins to walk in the direction of the student union building; Makoto runs a few steps to catch up to him. “It’s not like they teach you much in the last class anyway.” Plus, he wants to get another cup of coffee to warm himself up, and he offers to treat Makoto to a hot drink as well. “To make up for what I’ve done,” he explains briefly.

 

            Makoto happily accepts his offer with another one of his dazzling grins, and at that moment, the sky doesn’t seem so grey and bitter to Sousuke anymore.

 


End file.
